


This is what the game does to me

by petulantetuk



Category: The Hating Game - Sally Thorne
Genre: F/M, Joshua's POV, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 22:03:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12094383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petulantetuk/pseuds/petulantetuk
Summary: "I don’t know why I do this. She’s feeling uncomfortable and was about to open herself a little, and I screw up. But this is what the game does to me. What she does to me. I can’t not play."Joshua's POV in the morning of the short black dress.





	This is what the game does to me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in this fandom, I hope that you enjoy it :)

I sit at my desk really early in the morning. I like to come early so I can watch Lucy when she enters the room. It is the only moment when I can watch her but she can’t see me close enough to really see through me. This is the only moment when I can look at her without my mask on. When I can wonder without worry of her picking it up from my expression. 

There seems to be a game (it’s always a game with her) to be the first one in the office. We keep arriving earlier and earlier and soon we’ll have to do a sleepover here because it’s getting ridiculous. But I need to win this one, because the days when I don’t get to look at her early in the morning are somehow worse. 

I wonder if she will wear a dress or a skirt. I don’t really care, she looks perfect in anything. But there’s an extra degree of cuteness when she wears a skirt with a soft cardigan. 

I am lost in these thoughts when the elevator doors open and I see her walking towards our desks. Whatever she’s wearing, is shorter than her trenchcoat. My mind races through my mental recollection of all her clothes, and I decide she must be wearing a little cute pink and blue dress that I think is a little shorter than the others. 

She lingers around the coat rack and seems to be doubtful about taking off the coat. I can’t bring myself to look away. I want to see what she’s wearing. She says something about the office being cold or some other nonsense, and I can’t conceal that I’m getting really irritated. I need to see, now. She finally takes off the coat and I forget how to breathe for a second. 

She is wearing the shortest dress that I’ve ever seen, and there’s nothing cute about it. It marks her waist, and shows her beautiful thighs. I can’t believe she’s come to work dressed like that. The only possibility my weakened mind can come up with is that she’s trying to torture me. 

I need to look away because she’s gonna realize I’m flustered. I look at my planner and I remind myself to make a big ‘D’. But my eyes don’t seem to like the thought of looking away for long. 

“Wowsers,” I try to remain calm but this just comes out. “Got a hot date, Shortcake?” - I pray to myself that she says no. I want her to be doing this to annoy me, after yesterday’s comment about the polyester dress. 

“Yes” 

My heart sinks. But I can’t allow my face to show it.

“Do tell.”

I can’t stop looking at her legs. They’re short but in this dress they seem to never end. When I finally land at her face again, she is making a weird face. Like she’s about to have a panic attack. I get really worried, she doesn’t usually let her guard down like that. 

“What’s up? What’s happened?”

Her entire face turns really red and she looks like she’s losing control. I don’t want to play anymore. I want her to tell me what’s wrong. I want to help her. She tries to look at me, but seems to think twice and looks away. She sits down and looks like she is mentally preparing to talk. 

“I had a… dream.”

I am worried about her but my mouth starts watering. Is she really going to tell me about her dream? It’s so unusual that she shares something personal with me. She does it with everybody else, though. It outrages me. 

“Describe this dream.” 

She is looking at my hand and seems to have forgotten that time is passing. 

“Your face has gone all red. All the way down your neck.” - I can’t hold back the words. 

“Quit looking at me.” 

“Can’t. You’re right in my line of vision.” - The real answer is I don’t want to. 

“Well, try.”

“It’s not often I see such an interesting choice of thigh revealing attire in the workplace. In the HR manual for appropriate business attire—” - I don’t know why I do this. She’s feeling uncomfortable and was about to open herself a little, and I screw up. But this is what the game does to me. What she does to me. I can’t not play. 

“You can’t take your eyes off my thighs long enough to consult the manual.” - Well, it is true. Her thighs are mesmerizing. I try to look away, but when I see her red heels I find myself going over her legs again. Keep the game running, Joshua. 

“I have it memorized.”

“Then you’ll know that thighs are not an appropriate topic of conversation. If I get my polyester sack dress I guess you’ll be kissing them good-bye.” 

“I look forward to it. Getting the promotion, I mean. Not your thighs— Never mind.” - She says the word ‘kissing’ and I trip over my words like a teenager. Good job. 

“Dream on, pervert. It’s my job, not yours.” - The way she calls me pervert almost gets me hard. These transparent desks are a curse. And how she looks at me makes me hope that there’s no date. That this dress is just her playing with me.

“So who’s your date with?”

“A guy.” 

“What time is your date?”

“Seven,” - She is lying, I am sure now. She’s answering too fast. She’s making it all up. So the dress is for me. I knew it. God, I wish I could kiss her. 

“What location is your date?” - I remind myself to mark my desire to kiss her in my planner. I don’t know why I do that. I guess for torturing myself. 

“You’re very interested; why is that?” - She is flirting. I don’t think she’s ever been this flustered while talking to me. Is she angry? Sure. But there’s something else in her eyes. 

“Studies have shown that if managers feign interest in their employees’ personal lives it increases their morale and makes them feel valued. I’m getting the practice in, before I’m your boss.” 

“I’m meeting him for drinks at the sports bar on Federal Avenue. And: You’re never going to be my boss.”

“What a total coincidence. I’m going there to watch the game tonight. At seven. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Sure, maybe”. - I think I just got a date with Lucy. God, I hope I’m not wrong with this. I wonder if she’ll talk to me about the dream. I need the flirting game to keep going. It’s addictive. 

“So this dream—a man was in it, right?”

“Oh, yes indeed.” - She looks at me, her eyes dark. She looks like she’s thinking about eating me. - “It was highly erotic.”

I feel dizzy after hearing that word coming out of her delicious red lips. I don’t know how I’m going to keep it together. 

“I should compose an email to Jeanette,” I manage to say. My voice sounds harsh.

“Did I say erotic? I meant esoteric. I get those mixed up.”

“Your dream was… mysterious?” - This is new. The metaphoric game. 

“It was full of symbols and hidden meaning. I was lost in a garden, and there was a man there. Someone I spend a lot of time with, but this time he seemed like a stranger.”

“Continue,” - I don’t want to look too eager, but she is telling me about a erotic dream that she had about me. It’s a miracle that I am alive at all. She crosses her legs and I can’t not look. I think I’ve crossed the line so many times today it doesn’t really matter anymore. She doesn’t seem to mind, as her face is mischievous.

“I was wearing nothing but bedsheets,” - she says coyly. -“This is strictly between us, right?”

I try to speak but I have lost the capacity completely. I am imagining her in nothing but bedsheets. I am completely aware that this was what she was trying me to do and I don’t care a bit. She can win this game if I can keep this mental image. I manage to nod because I need her to keep feeding to this fantasy.

She is looking at me quietly, enjoying her victory. She starts applying her lipstick, even though her lips were perfect. She does it to torture me. She seems to do a lot of things with that sole purpose. 

“So I’m walking through this garden and the man is right behind me. He’s right behind me. Like, up against me. Pressed up against my ass.”

I thought I was going to die before, but now she is telling me details about her sex dream. And she touches her ass to point where this man were pressed. I manage to nod and I swallow more loudly that I would have liked. God, how is she so beautiful.

“I seem to recognize his voice.” - she says, and then stops. I am terrified. Of her telling me that was someone else’s voice. Of her telling me it was mine. She continues with her lipstick routine, and I need her to stop because it is all too much. 

“Do you always have to do that twice?” - I am desperate for her to stop. I am getting so hard I’m not going to be able to hide it for much longer. She fucking winks at me. 

“Don’t want it kissing off, now do I?” - That’s it. I need her to come clean about our date. I want her to say it. I want to win.

“Who is this date with, exactly? What’s his name?”

“A guy. You’re changing the subject, but that’s okay. Sorry for boring you.”

“No, no,” It sounds like I can’t catch my breath. Probably because I haven't breathed since I saw the dress. “I’m not bored.”

“Okay, so I’m in the garden, and it’s . . . all reflective. Like it’s covered in mirrors.” - Huh, I guess we’re not playing the metaphoric game anymore. 

“And I . . .” She stops and look at me, with tease in her eyes. “Never mind.”

“What?” - I say, too loud for my dignity to be intact.  
“I say, Who are you? Why do you want me so badly? And when he tells me his name, I was so shocked...”

The tension between us is so strong that is making me dizzy. It feels like I’m watching this interaction from outside. I wait patiently for her to tell me the name. My name. 

“Come over here, I need to whisper it,” - I’ve tried to play the flirting game so many times with her, but it always came down as sarcastic. Probably not her fault, since I’m hopeless with these matters. But this time she is flirting and there’s not a hint of sarcasm in it. I want nothing in the world more than go to her desk and have her whispering in my ear. But if I want to maintain a certain grace, I can’t get up right now. She realizes it and looks at my lap. I blush in a way I didn’t think I could. 

“Oh. I’ll come over and tell you.” - I panic. Really panic.

“I’m fine.”

“I have to share it.” - She walks to my desk and I can’t stop looking at her legs. My head is spinning. Not that it surprises me, since there’s no blood left up there. 

“This is unprofessional. HR.” - I manage to say. I can’t keep losing this game. I need to regain some control. 

“Is that our safe word? Okay. You’re a little sweaty.” She looks so good when she’s teasing me like this. I don’t know how I’m going to get through today. She takes a post-it and plant a kiss on it. Then she puts it in my screen. I haven’t composed myself enough to say anything. I can’t do it. I swallow hard and I see her watching my throat with her horny eyes. 

She walks away and I am finally able to breath. I take the post-it and I put it in my wallet. I just have to get through this day and manage not to act like a horny teenager during our date. It’s going to be fine. 

It’s going to be more than fine. It’s going to be perfect.


End file.
